The Price of Living
by FallenAngel2013
Summary: The arrival of the undead had brought out the worst in Rick Grimes, but the best had been brought out in Grace Bennett, a woman from his past. When their paths cross, Rick discovers that even in Hell life was still worth living, even if living came at a price... Rick/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_**Set during season three and will continue through season four. The time-frame between the events of the season have been altered and things have been added. The OFC's name is Grace Bennett.**_

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own **_**The Walking Dead**_**.**_

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The world had fallen apart at the seams, becoming nothing more than a tattered shell of what it used to be. Those who managed to survive the epidemic of the undead had to adapt to a new way of living in which only the strongest survive.

Gracelyn "Grace" Bennett never imagined that she would be one of those people.

Before the world went to hell, she'd been nothing but a lowlife junkie addicted to heroin, struggling to take care of her young daughter – Ashley – whilst feeding her addiction. By the time she was twenty-seven she'd already been arrested half a dozen times for various reasons and had been visited by social services here and there. Her habits certainly didn't win her any mother of the year awards, but she tried to be the best mother she could be, given her situation. Never did she shoot up or drink when Ashley was home, nor did she drive her daughter around when she wasn't sober. That little girl was the only bright light she had in her otherwise dark world. That didn't satisfy social services, however, and one day last August she came close to losing custody of Ashley to her sister Heather for good after she was arrested for DUI, possession, and assault on an officer.

But then the dead started walking, their horrific plague spreading, and Grace managed get out of jail along with the other inmates when the infection reached them because a sympathetic guard wanted them to have chance. If it weren't for him, she'd have died for sure.

The first thing she did was go to Heather's house to find out if she and her daughter were okay, but what she found caused her to spill the contents of her stomach then and there. Heather was long dead, a gun in her hand, a hole in her head, and a bite on her forearm, and huddled against the rotting corpse was six-year-old Ashley, restlessly sleeping. The sight had brought tears to Grace's dark green eyes and she wasted no time in packing up some clothes, food, and water, picking up the gun and ammo before getting her daughter out of the apartment, to Heather's car, and out of town. Things were already falling apart, and even while she was desperate for a shot of heroin and a strong drink she knew she had to get them out of there.

That was almost a year ago, and Grace was now clean and sober with her now seven-year-old daughter by her side as they ransacked a home along the road with Simon, a boy they'd picked up a while back during winter.

Food and fuel were becoming harder to find with each passing day, and rain, streams, and bodies of water brought the only source of water provided there was a way to boil it, so she doubted there would be anything worth finding in the house. She was able to syphon a little bit of fuel out of the busted jeep in the back, though, that had been a pleasant surprise.

Stepping inside after filling up her blue truck with the scant amount of gas, she walked into the kitchen and found Grace rummaging through the lower cabinets.

"Find anything, sweetie?" she asked, tucking a strand of shoulder-length dark blond hair behind her ear.

Ashley backed out of the cabinet she'd crawled into, holding in her thin arms a variety of items. "Did I do good?" she asked, setting her find down on a table.

Walking over, Grace examined the items and sighed sadly.

Ashley had found a half empty bottle of vegetable oil, some Tabasco sauce, and a few cans of spam. The spam would give them something to eat, but the rest wouldn't do them much good in the long run. Then again, what remained of the Tabasco sauce would give some better flavor to the spam. Still, it wasn't much at all.

Seeing that Ashley was still waiting for an answer, chewing on her lower lip and watching her with big green eyes, Grace forced a smile and ran her fingers through her daughter's thick honey curls. "Yeah, Ash, you did good."

Smiling, she picked up her backpack and stuffed her treasure inside.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs caught both of their attention, and Grace pulled her crowbar from her belt loop before going towards the staircase with her daughter right behind her, holding her little knife. They'd cleared the house of the undead, but with how many herds were wandering around out there it was quite possible that one had snuck up on them and gotten inside, so she gripped her crowbar tighter. What she wanted was her gun, but she hadn't had ammunition for their few weapons for over a month.

Upon reaching the stairs she saw that it was only Simon, the duffel bag in his hand looking a little less empty, and she sighed in relief.

"Found some aspirin on the floor in the bathroom along with a freak," he said, tossing her the bag to inspect. "Also found a few razors and some clothes."

Frowning, she looked up at him from the bag. "That's it? Did you check each room."

"Checked 'em twice," he replied regretfully. "Guess someone beat us to the punch."

"More like they turned," she sighed, looking at one of the dead 'freaks', as Simon called them. "There were a few cans of spam in the kitchen, fuel in the jeep, and no one would leave aspirin lying around. Chances are someone was bit, a herd came through and scared them off, or maybe both."

He nodded, looking decidedly unhappy, adjusting his hat atop his head of shaggy light brown hair. "Spam, huh? Great."

"Hey, I don't like it either, but we don't have much else, bud," Grace pointed out, setting down the bag and slipping her crowbar back through her belt.

Simon stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked around a bit before fidgeting and adjusting his filthy brown shirt. All the while, he avoided her eyes.

Grace stared at him knowingly, hands on her hips. The only time the sixteen-year-old fidgeted and didn't look at her was when he was nervous or wanted to talk about something that would make her angry.

"Got something you want to share, Simon?" she questioned, tone gentle yet demanding all at once.

"It's just…" Simon trailed off, searching for the right words. He then raised his dark brown eyes to hers and said, "Maybe we should think about hitting the prison."

"Not going to happen."

"But there's bound to be stuff there. It could... I don't know, the Grand Canyon of finds!" he reasoned desperately.

"Yeah, and you want to know why it would? Because the place is overrun with freaks!" she snapped. "It's obvious they can't get out, and we aren't going in."

"But that's what we planned to do! Food, shelter, safety… that's why we came here!"

"That was back when there were twelve of us," she reminded him tightly, and his eyes left hers.

It was true that they'd traveled for over an hour to reach the prison, a man in their group being familiar with the area. Upon inspection, it looked like it'd be possible to at least take the yard, and over the course of a few days they'd work their way inside. But then a herd came through in the middle of the night, biting and scratching everyone but Grace, Ashley, and Simon. The only reason they'd survived was because Grace made a snap decision – she had the keys to her truck, and Simon and Ashley were closest to her, so she grabbed them and shoved them into the vehicle when it was obvious the others were lost to them. That was two weeks ago, and Simon hated when she brought it up, but only because he'd seen his mother get bit while they made their escape.

"Whatever," the teen mumbled, stomping out of the house to the truck.

Looking after Simon before raising her eyes to her mother, Ashley asked, "Can we go home now?"

Home.

Grace hardly knew the meaning of that word after moving around every week or two just to survive, but Ashley had a habit of calling anywhere they stayed for over a week home. She wished she could give her little girl a home, a place where she could rest and play, but that seemed like nothing more than a pipe-dream now. Like it or not, the chances were that neither of them would ever have a real home again.

Not about to tell her own daughter that, she nodded, helping her slip on her backpack. "Yeah, we're going home."

"Home" was nothing more than an abandoned cabin down the road, tucked away in the woods. It wouldn't hold against the undead if they decided to come in which was why she'd gutted the ones she'd killed when cleaning it out, spreading their insides all around the cabin in hopes of masking their scent from the other monsters lurking in the woods.

Making sure they had all they'd found, Grace cautiously led Ashley out to the truck, keeping her eyes open for the undead and other survivors who may be intent on stealing her loot. Simon was already inside and hardly glanced at them when they climbed in after tossing their stuff into the bed.

He was angry about bringing up the loss of the group, but he would get over it, especially with Ashley lifting his arm to cuddle into his side as Grace started the engine and drove onto the road. Whatever attitude he had getting into the car dissipated the moment the little girl snuggled up against him, and he hooked his arm around her before giving a curl a playful tug. She giggled and poked him, making him smile, and Grace knew he'd be just fine.

Simon had taken to being a big brother to Ashley and they both got alone amazingly well. He and his mother were the only people in the whole group she'd trusted to watch Ashley if she wasn't going to be around. They'd been family, and in light of the death of his mother, Grace swore that she would take care of Simon as if he were her own. Nothing was going to happen to the two kids if she had any say in the matter.

Before the epidemic spread, the only one she'd given a damn about was Ashley no one else, not even her big sister. But now she found that being clean made her a more compassionate and friendly individual, and she cared about the boy very much. She'd also cared about everyone in the group and had cried and grieved while driving her and the two kids to safety, leaving them behind.

Her chest tightened at the mere memory of that night, recalling the screams and pleas for her to help them even as they were bitten, scratched, and hopelessly lost. With thirty plus undead in their camp, it was a risk she couldn't take.

As she rounded a bend in the road, Grace spotted a few vehicles stopped up ahead with people walking around. _Living_ people. It had been so long since she'd seen any sign of life that her jaw dropped a fraction.

"Mommy?" Ashley started, her voice raised in pitch with worry and curiosity.

"I see them," she murmured, keeping her eyes on the strangers.

Simon's hand moved to the empty shotgun the kept in the car for show, and asked quietly as though they'd hear him, "Should we stop?"

She mulled over the idea in her head, and she admitted that it would be nice to talk to people over the age of twenty, but she wasn't a fool. Very few could be trusted these days.

"No," she said after a moment, slowing so as not to accidentally hit anyone and steering to the side to drive past them on the dirt.

Simon didn't question her and she was grateful for that.

As bratty as the teen could be, he trusted strangers even less than she did.

The group of strangers turned to look at her as she slowly drove by and she stared right back, watching for them to make a threatening move of any kind. One man wearing a tang jacket with shaggy dark brown hair and a scruffy beard shot her a cold look, his hand moving to rest on his gun.

The action made her pulse quicken and she tightened her grip on the wheel, fearing he'd shoot at the truck, but even as she passed him she found that she kept glancing back at him in the rearview mirror not out of fear, but out of curiosity. Something about him looked incredibly familiar, and being that she was normally good with faces she knew that she had to have seen him somewhere before. But _where_ had she seen him? Most survivors left a notable impression on everyone and she could recall each and every face she'd come across while on the move and where she'd seen each person. Names were what she had trouble with, but not faces.

"Mommy, look at his hat," instructed Ashley, twisting in her seat to look back at the boy in the group, staring longingly at his hat. "Can I have a hat like that, please? _Please_?"

"Sure, if I can find one," she replied, glancing at the boy in the mirror. His hat looked to be one belonging to a police officer or something. It almost looked like the hat of the guy who arrested her before the whole mess started with the undead.

The cop that arrested her…

Grace slammed on the breaks, putting her arm out to keep her daughter from flying forward while Simon, braced his hands on the dash.

"What the hell, Grace?" Simon demanded, both shocked and confused by their sudden stop. Typically, she gave them a few seconds warning.

Ignoring him, Grace turned in her seat to look at the guy who had scowled at her with his hand on his gun. He stared right back, flanked by the others in his group as he watched her warily. It was hard to tell from a distance, especially with the scruffy beard, but that was definitely the officer who arrested her back in August.

She breathed out a laugh, astonished. "I'll be damned."

"What?" Simon asked, and then her frowned when she put the truck into reverse and steered back to the group. "Whoa, whoa, what're you doing? I thought you said we shouldn't stop?"

Ashley grasped ducked lower into her seat, frightened by her mother's sudden change in mood. "You said strangers are bad."

"This guy's not a stranger, not really," she assured her with a smirk playing on her lips as she came to a halt a few feet away from him and the others. "Both of you stay in the truck. Got it?"

"But –" Simon started.

"Got it?"

Sighing, he nodded, holding onto Ashley's arm protectively.

"Mommy will be okay," Grace said soothingly to her daughter, kissing her cheek. Only when Ashley smiled slightly did she roll down her window.

No stranger to confrontation and people with a "shoot first" attitude, she kept her movements slow and cautious as she shifted to lean half out the window, unsurprised to find that she already had the officer's gun trained on her from where he stood a few feet away. He looked a lot colder and rougher than she remembered, certainly not appearing to be the compassionate officer anymore. Then again, who was the same person they were before the world went down the drain?

"We've got nothing for you," the officer said tightly, his steel blue gaze never wavering as he aimed his gun at her. "I suggest you keep moving."

She thought about that. "Nah, think I'm just fine right here."

She wanted to see how far she could push him. When he arrested her, she'd been a bitch with a big mouth and had scratched, slapped and kicked at him when he tried to restrain her, but he still kept a cool head and understanding tone, trying to keep her calm and telling her that he didn't want to hurt her.

"Think you're misunderstanding what I'm saying. I wasn't askin' you to leave, I was tellin'." Cocking his pistol, he advised in warning, "You've got one minute to get moving."

Grace gaped, taken aback by his blunt threat to shoot if she didn't get her ass moving within the minute. She was half tempted to call his bluff, but judging my how he hardly even blinked and the worried glances from the others, save for the boy and man with a crossbow, he would shoot her.

The undead had a habit of changing people for the worst, but what in the hell could have made him so damn cold?

Shaking her head, she commented, "First you tell me to quit struggling and now you're threatening to shoot me? You pulled a one-eighty, Officer Grimes."

Rick Grimes blinked, brow creasing in confusion.

Smiling slightly at how she'd put a dent in his focus, she asked knowingly, "Don't remember me, do you, Grimes?"

At this point, a woman who had been sitting in a truck hopped out, her hand resting on her belly, heavy with a baby. Grace recognized her as the woman in the photo from Rick's squad car, the boy too. She looked at her for a long moment, and the woman then looked to Rick, then the crossbow guy, and to the others.

No one spoke, no one made a move, and no one stepped in front of Rick. He was in charge, that was as clear as day.

"Who are you?" Rick demanded, jaw set.

"Well, your buddy Officer Walsh called me an insane psycho bitch after I bit him, but my name's Grace."

"Grace?" he repeated, chewing over the name for a few seconds whilst the others looked lost by how she knew both Rick and Shane. But then recognition flashed over Rick's features and he lowered his gun slightly, disbelief replacing the cold tone as he asked, "Gracelyn Bennett?"

She smiled. "The one and only. Bet you never expected to see me again, let alone all cleaned up." Taking in the withered, tired group, especially the exhausted pregnant woman, she patted the door of her truck, no longer paying any notice to his gun still slightly aimed at her. "C'mon, I set up camp down in a cabin just up the road. Not much in the way of food, but there's plenty of water coming from the stream and there's more than enough room for you to take a breather."

Rick's earlier wariness returned, but he didn't raise his gun fully again. "And why would we follow you?"

"Because you all look like shit," she said bluntly. Shrugging when he made no attempt to accept or decline her offer, she added, "Hey, follow or don't follow, just wanted to be helpful for old time's sake, Grime. Feel free to follow if you and your people want to take a nap without the dead crawling in bed with you."

Having said her piece, Grace got back into the truck and put it in drive.

Simon stared at her, stunned. "That's the guy you said arrested you?"

"Yep."

"Why offer him and his group a place to stay?" he questioned, legitimately confused. "You always say not to trust strangers, and they're strangers."

"Grime's isn't exactly a stranger," she pointed out.

"No, but he is the guy who arrested you!" he exclaimed.

Before she could reply, Ashley tugged on Grace's dirty dark green shirt, and looked up at her with worried eyes. "Is he mean, Mommy? He sounded mean."

"I don't know if he's mean, sweetie," she said honestly, hooking her arm around her and pulling her into her side so she could hold her. Movement in the rear-view mirror caught her attention and she was pleasantly surprised to find Rick and his group following her in their vehicles, one guy on a motorcycle. "But we're about to find out."

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_**Coffee keeps me awake to write, but reviews keep me motivated to write!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_**I just want to say thanks to those who have favorited/followed this so far, and thanks for the review! Those are what keep me writing.**_

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When Rick first met Grace, she'd been a handful, a downright nightmare if there ever was one. He'd had to write her tickets here and there and gave her more warnings than he probably should have, but rather than be grateful to him for not arresting her she'd blown her top each and every time, shouting profanity and insults at him like he'd run over her puppy. Shane thought he was nuts for trying to help her, but Rick had his reasons. On one occasion when he gave her a ticket, she ranted about her daughter, and that was his why he at least tried to give her the opportunity to pull herself together – he didn't want to take a mother from her child.

But then he pulled her over one night and she'd been drunk out of her mind and high on something, leaving him no choice but to arrest her. That had pushed her off the deep end and she'd lashed out violently, kicking and slapping and screaming as if she was having a tantrum, digging her nails into both officers. Shane managed to get a hold of her from behind but she reared up, kicking Rick in the chest. His bullet-proof vest absorbed the force of her blow, but her kick was strong enough to knock the wind out of him and push him back. By the time they got the handcuffs on her, both men had been slapped, scratched, kicked, and Shane had been bit on the hand. The trouble didn't end there, and she screamed and ranted and kicked at the seats the whole drive back to the station. That was when he figured that Shane was right about her – Grace was a lost cause and would sooner die than kick the habit.

Of all the people in the world, Grace was one of the ones least likely to survive the walkers, and yet here she was, leading them to her camp in the woods.

He'd been absolutely shocked to discover that she was alive, even more so to hear her speak kindly to him and joke as opposed to screaming in a drunken rage or as high as a kite. After learning that she was the same junky he'd arrested he would have expected her to take a shot at him, not offer him and the others a place to stay to gather their strength.

Upon first speaking to him, he had vaguely recognized her voice, but she looked completely different from how he remembered her. She used to be pale with her dark eyes glazed over from the alcohol or drugs or both and she'd had ugly track marks going up her left arm, some fresh and some old. While she wore a frayed long-sleeved purple shirt that hid her arms, her skin was fair and her eyes were just as bright as her smile had been.

But just because she looked better than he remembered did not mean he was willing to believe her when she said she was clean. She'd been a violent, hateful woman who was as hooked as one could get on heroin and drank. Just because her drug of choice might not be readily available didn't mean that it was impossible to get high. Merle had found drugs and had been high on that rooftop, so it was entirely possible for anyone to find something to get high on. Being the hardcore addict that she had been, Rick was willing to bet that she was lying about being clean.

The apocalypse didn't bring out the best it people, it brought out the worst, chasing away morals and hope, and he sincerely doubted Grace would be the exception to that. After all, he'd changed and abandoned his moral code when he'd originally believed that nothing could shake who he was.

After a good few minutes of driving down a bumpy dirt road, they finally came upon the cabin, tucked away in the trees.

Each vehicle found a place to park behind Grace's truck, and Rick took a moment to check out their surroundings. At first glance there didn't appear to be any walkers, but that could change in the blink of an eye. For now, things looked quiet, and so he got out of the silver truck.

The others followed his lead and got out as well, all pulling a face at the sickening smell that surrounded them.

Before Rick could put much thought into the stench, Carl came around the truck and asked quietly, glancing towards Grace as she got out of her old truck, "That's the lady you arrested before you got shot, right?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, that's her."

The young boy nodded slowly, adjusting his gun holster. "Think we can trust her?"

"Not sure yet," Rick replied with a sigh, and he looked towards Grace.

A second after she stepped out, a little girl younger than Carl followed after her, making Rick start. She couldn't be older than seven or eight, and the girl could only be the daughter Grace had ranted about whenever he confronted her, though he didn't know what her girl's name was. Drugged up or not, somehow Grace had kept them both alive, along with the teenage boy who appeared from the other side of the truck, but they were far from in good shape.

All three looked too thin, like they hadn't had much to eat in weeks, and his heart went out to the little girl holding onto her mother's belt with thin fingers.

Hershel led Maggie, Beth, and Glenn over to Grace, followed by the others, and Rick assumed they were heading over to introduce themselves, so he started towards them with Carl and T-Dog beside him. Just as he walked four steps, Lori stepped in front of him, her hand on her belly.

"Can we talk for a minute?" she asked, tapping her fingers anxiously.

Rick sighed, looking past her. Talking to his wife wasn't exactly something he preferred to do anymore, but for the sake of Carl he wasn't going to ignore her went she came up to him.

He looked to T-Dog, and his friend nodded, putting his hand on Carl's shoulder. "C'mon, let's go meet the new guys."

The real reason for T-Dog leading him away was not lost on Carl and he sighed, looking at his parents with a withered expression fit for someone old before walking off ahead of T-Dog.

Once they were alone, Lori took a step closer, causing Rick to stiffen, and said quietly, "Look, everyone trusts your judgment, but I don't think coming here was a good idea."

Rick ground his teeth, noticing that she said _everyone_ trusted his judgment as opposed to _we_.

"We need a place to wind down for the night," he explained coolly, avoiding eye contact. "Here we can sort out where we're going next."

"This is Grace Bennett we're talking about, Rick," Lori reminded him, inclining her head towards the woman in question. "Shane told me how much trouble she caused you even when you cut her some slack, and after the fight she put up before you were shot? How do you know she won't just bash your head in for arresting her?"

The mention of Shane made his blood boil, but she had a point whether he wanted to admit it or not. Grace could have lured him to the cabin to get the jump on him, but Rick's gut told him otherwise and he's survived by trusting his gut.

"I don't think she'll do that," he argued, glancing at Grace over Lori's shoulder.

"You killed a man the other day for getting too close to our food because he threatened to bring his friends to raid us if we didn't. You didn't think twice about killing him, but this woman who could more than likely have a serious grudge against you invites us to her camp and you take her up on her offer?"

Tired of arguing with her any more than he had to, Rick made to move around her but she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"This is insane and you're putting us all at risk by letting us take shelter with some stranger," she insisted desperately. "The baby's going to come in days and I don't want to give birth around some drug addict."

He stared at her, appalled that she would even think that he'd purposefully put her, the baby, and Carl at risk.

"You think I'd have brought you here if I thought she'd hurt you?" he demanded quietly.

"No… I don't know, I just…" she trailed off, raking her fingers through her dark hair as she shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"You just what?"

Throwing up her hands, she said, "I just want to know why."

He thought that over for a moment, debating on telling her that his reason for following Grace to the cabin was so that he could learn if she truly was clean, and if so, why she was clean. She'd been dead set on not giving up the drugs when he dealt with her to the point where it seemed impossible that she'd turn her life alone, especially during the walker apocalypse.

Rather than ask her that, he stared at the ground and asked before he wasted his breath, "You said everyone trusts my judgment?"

Frowning, confused by his question, she nodded. "Yeah, they do."

"What about you?" he asked, raising his weary blue eyes to her dark brown ones. "You trust my judgment?"

Lori opened her mouth to reply, torn, but after a few seconds she closed her mouth, unable to lie and unable to speak the truth.

That was answer enough, and Rick hissed, "Then what's it matter why I accepted her offer?"

He didn't give her a chance to reply, already stalking off towards Grace and the others who were talking to her.

Back before the world practically ended, Rick and Lori were having serious marital problems. Lori complained that he didn't talk enough and was too absorbed with his work, and when Rick tried to talk to her and be reasonable she got pissed and they began arguing. He began spending more and more time at work until one day she accused him of not caring about her and Carl. More than once she'd expressed that their problems came from marrying when they were barely out of high school, but that was just an excuse.

Finding her again after waking from his coma gave him hope that they could fix their wounded marriage, but with each passing day that hope dwindled until nine months ago it became obvious that they were broken.

Ever since confessing that he'd killed Shane and knew that everyone was infected Lori had been looking at him cross-eyed and not a truly kind word as husband and wife had been exchanged since that day. At first she didn't talk to him at all, then she snapped and challenged every single thing he said, and though she now was a bit nicer when speaking she only spoke to him in order to question his decisions.

He'd tried at first to make peace with her even though he was adamant that the group was no longer a democracy and that either they followed him or they left, but after months of trying and getting nowhere he'd finally had enough. She was carrying a baby that might not even be his and he would make sure she stayed safe, but he didn't want to be around her, let alone explain his actions to her when she obviously didn't trust him.

Spotting him out of the corner of her eye as he approached, Grace turned to face him, patting the boy on his shoulder. "Was just introducing Simon here to your pals," she explained with a half-smile before reaching down and lifting the girl into her arms. "And this here is my daughter Ashley. I think I mentioned her to you once or twice."

"You did," he confirmed, giving the little girl a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but one that he put on for the kid's sake. Ashley blushed and smiled back before burying her face in Grace's neck, and _that _made Rick to truly smile for the first time in a long while, the small display of childhood innocents make everyone loosen up a bit. "Didn't know she was so young, though. How old is she?"

"She just turned seven about five weeks ago," she replied.

Stepping forward after looking over the exterior of the cabin, crossbow in hand, Daryl asked, "Mind tellin' us why you got walker guts strung around the place like lawn ornaments?"

Rick frowned and looked past Grace towards the cabin. Sure enough, there was the unmistakable entrails of at least half a dozen walkers along with arms, legs, hands, and other body parts. No wonder it smelled foul outside.

Simon answered before Grace could. "It's camouflage. Kinda masks our scent from others freaks that walk by."

Recalling how he and Glenn had to cover themselves in walker gore while in Atlanta, Rick didn't ask Grace or Simon to go into more detail. Daryl too was satisfied with the explanation and eased his grip on his crossbow.

"Have any herds come by?" Hershel asked.

Grace shook her head. "No. The biggest group to have come through recently only had a head count of about six, ten at the most. That being said, there are a few herds me and my group were keeping track of prior to us taking shelter here."

"Group?" Rick repeated. "Never said you were a part of a group. Won't they be a little put off by us being here?"

A solemn look fell over her face and she shook her head. "Don't see how they could be – they're all dead. One of those herds I mentioned got the jump on us about two weeks ago. We're all that's left.

Everyone wore a look of sympathy and understanding. They all knew what it was like to have a herd sweep through without warning and to lose people. It seemed to Rick that he was good at getting people killed no matter how uncontrollable the circumstances.

Uncomfortable with the conversation, Daryl cleared his throat and asked, "Know if there's any game 'round here? Had an owl earlier but it didn't exactly hit the spot."

"There's usually some deer down by the stream," said Grace pointing back behind the cabin, ignoring the bewildered look Simon gave her as if she was reveal some big secret. "Saw about three there earlier. I think they're livin' around here."

Daryl stared at her, dumbfounded. "Y'all got deer and you haven't shot 'em yet? Got some secret stash of food or somethin'?"

"We ran out of ammo eleven days ago just getting here. Can't exactly get close enough to animals to stab them."

The anger and frustration Daryl had expressed towards them not hunting the deer faded, and he looked at Rick. Both men were thinking the same thing – it was only a matter of time before the three died due to starvation or a walker attack. Without ammunition, they were helpless.

"I'm 'a go see if I can bring back a deer," Daryl said with a sigh, walking off to go hunt dinner.

"Good luck," Grace called, staring after him for a moment before looking back at Rick. "Walkers, huh? That what you call them?"

Rick nodded.

Glenn shrugged and said, "That or geeks."

"Geeks?" She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Me and the group I was with took to calling them freaks, but I kinda like the sound of walkers." Setting Ashley down, she added as she walked to the truck to get her bags from it, "Might as well head inside. Feel free to claim whatever free space you can find."

Everyone grabbed the necessary items from the vehicles and headed on in to get situated.

The cabin was dark with a musky odder to it made more unpleasant by the smell of rotting walker remains, but it was secure and the problem with the darkness was already being dealt with by Ashley. Hurrying around the cabin, she lit various candles with a lighter, chasing away the darkness.

"Oh, you don't have to sleep on the floor," said Grace, and Rick turned to find her talking to Lori who was getting ready to lay a blanket on the floor. "There's a bed in the back bedroom down the hall to your left."

Lori was mildly surprised but nodded, no doubt relieved that she wouldn't be sleeping on the hard floor. "Thank you."

"Hey, you need it more than I do," she explained, indicating to her belly. "How far along are you?"

Taking a step away from her, still wary, she replied shortly, "Far enough."

Grace could take a hint and stepped back, a little put off by the hostility but leaving Lori to her business.

His wife still believed they were in the presence of a violent junky, and until he knew otherwise he couldn't say that she was entirely wrong in thinking that. The sooner he could find out for certain the sooner he could put that issue to rest.

Thus far, she most certainly wasn't acting like the junky he'd known her to be.

Grace and Ashley were busy helping Maggie, Beth, and Carol bring things inside while Simon brought T-Dog and Glenn up to date on the walker situation in the immediate area. Whatever they were talking about had the women smiling, save for Maggie who just looked uncomfortable around her. Carl, standing off to the side, also looked less than happy with being in the presence of strangers.

Despite their obvious grievances, Grace helped them set up and showed them where everything was in the cabin, openly ignoring Maggie, Carl, and Lori. As rude as ignoring them may be, Rick would rather her do that than start screaming like she used to.

Excusing herself, Grace retrieved Ashley's backpack while the little girl played with a beat up stuffed cat and went into the kitchen.

Rick looked around, and upon locating everyone – minus Daryl – he deduced that she was alone and saw his chance to have a private chat with her.

Walking through the doorway to the trashed kitchen, he closed the door behind him.

Startled, Grace spun around, hand on her crowbar, but breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was just him. "Christ, Grimes, you trying to give me a heart attack?" When he said nothin, only stared at her, she tensed. "You need something?"

"Show me your arms."

Grace blanched, crossing them over her chest in defiance. "I told you I was clean."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?" Stepping closer, he waited for her to unfold her arms, but when she didn't he became frustrated and his belief that she was lying grew until he finally lashed out and grabbed her left wrist.

"Hey!" she hissed, trying to yank her arm free from his vice-like grip, but he'd already pulled up her sleeve.

Rick stared at her arm, expecting to find fresh track marks, but that wasn't what he found at all. What he found was an intricate purple orchid tattooed on her wrist, and above that in the crook of her arm where the scars left behind from years of heroin injections. He grabbed her other arm to examine, to which she put up no fight, and he saw nothing at all. By the looks of it, she hadn't shot up in a very long time.

"Satisfied, Officer Grimes?" Grace inquired angrily, yanking her arm from his grasp once he loosened his grip, her face red with embarrassment.

"You weren't lying," he said more to himself, unable to believe that she really was clean.

She could be snorting something or inhaling some kind of chemical, but none of the signs were there. She wasn't wheezing, sneezing, wiping her nose repeatedly, or acting high. There was no question about it – Grace was drug free.

"No shit," she snapped, pulling down her sleeves and hugging herself.

Frowning, he asked, "Why not just show me to begin with?"

She turned her back to him and emptied the contents of the backpack. "Because I'd sooner have an asshole look at my breasts than my tracks," she bit out, busying herself with her task.

Rick sighed, bracing his hands on the counter beside the embarrassed blond, guilt tugging at him. "I'm sorry if I made you feel violated, but I had to be sure you were being honest with me."

"Well, now you know," she mumbled, reaching into the back pack to pull out sauce packets from Taco Bell. She remained silent for a few seconds before sighing, tapping one of the packets against the counter. "Haven't used since early September, few weeks after all this started. With any luck the tracks won't be permanent scars. It's just that I built up some serious scar tissue with shooting up since I was fifteen that it'll be a while before they disappear, if they ever do."

He stared at her. "You were dead set on not changin' your ways back then. Said you were happy with your life."

"I was high most of the time so of course I was happy with my life. It was when I was sober that I started feeling shitty. Had to get high again just to feel better."

"What changed?"

Grace fell silent and scratched at a nick in the counter. "After shit hit the fan, I high tailed it out of jail with the help of a guard and found my daughter. Was going through withdraw 'til I found myself in a house that had a bottle of jack and some kinda household cleaner. Never was one for huffing, but I was getting the shakes so bad that I was gonna use anything just to get high again. And I did – got so high and drunk I couldn't see straight. As a result I ignored Ashley screaming until the third time she called for me, and I stumbled downstairs to find her kicking and screaming while a walker gnawed on her boot. All I cared about was getting high, and it almost cost me my baby girl," she said quietly, taking a shaky breath. "Haven't used since that day."

Rick couldn't imagine what it felt like to find a child being chewed on by a walker, but he knew that if he ever went off and did something selfish that caused Carl to be bitten he'd never forgive himself. Little Ashley was lucky that her boot had protected her from the walker's teeth. Grace had made a mistake and almost paid for it with her daughter's life. At least she didn't let her problem continue and got herself cleaned up. If she was going to keep herself and Ashley alive, she couldn't be high, and she must have realized that on that day.

"Nothin' like seeing your kid being attacked to scare you straight," he commented, picking up a can of spam.

"Got that right."

Setting down the can, Rick surveyed the food in the kitchen. There were a few cans of spam, Taco Bell sauce packets, a little bit of vegetable oil, a half-eaten bag of dried fruit, some jerky, and a jar of peanuts that was almost gone, and that didn't include the scant amount of food his group had in a bag that Lori held onto. It was hardly enough food for one person, let alone three.

Catching his look, she explained, "We cleaned out most of the houses and shops in the immediate area two weeks ago, but there wasn't much to begin with. We make do, though."

"Why not leave and find somewhere else to hunker down?" he asked.

"Not enough fuel in the truck to get far enough away that it would matter." Take a sip of her bottle of water that had been resting on the counter, she added, "I've been thinking about just packing everything up and driving until the gas runs out, see how far we get. Might get lucky and find a place better stocked than any of the houses around here. But I can't risk Ashley and Simon like that."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be wise," he agreed, accepting the water when she offered it to him.

She was easier to get along with now that she was sober, even downright pleasant. It was a welcome change of pace, talking to someone who didn't judge his decisions left and right and hold a grudge like Lori, who didn't look at him with dwindling hope like the others.

There was a knock on the kitchen door and a second later Simon walked inside with Ashley. Looking to Rick, he said, "Your friends wanna talk to you. Think they'd like it to be a private party."

"Guess I'll play hostess and get some food together for everyone," Grace muttered dryly.

Rick turned to her, expecting an argument or outburst, but she only smiled jokingly.

Relaxing, he mulled over the topic of food before he came to a conclusion and said, "We'll provide the food."

"You don't have to –"

"You took us in," he interrupted, handing her back the water. "It's the least we can do. Daryl should be back later with somethin' to eat, in which case we can share that."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, smiling gratefully. "You don't know how much we appreciate that."

He gave her a nod and moved passed the kids to go see what the others wanted. Either they wanted to talk about what they were going to do after leaving the cabin, what the deal with Grace was, or all of the above. He had his money on each topic.

Everyone was gathered in the living room, Lori and Carol sitting on the beat up couch, Hershel in a chair, Beth and Carl sat on the floor, and Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog were standing. They looked considerably more relaxed with a roof over the heads and little worry that they'd have to leave within minutes, but there was a thick tension in the room that prevented them all from being overly comfortable.

Seeing as no one else was going to say anything, Hershel spoke up first, "Lori tells me that Grace is a drug addict."

Rick's eyes snapped to his wife and she purposefully avoided looking him in the eye. Biting back the anger he felt that she'd yapped about Grace's past issues, he replied, "She used to be. Gave me a lot of trouble back when I was a cop."

"She isn't now?" Glenn asked, curious.

He shook his head. "No, she's clean."

"How can you know that?" Maggie questioned, not so ready to believe that all was well with Grace.

"I checked her arms. There're no fresh track marks, no signs of recent injections, nothing. And she's not actin' like she's using somethin' else," he explained.

Leaning back against the wall, T-Dog said, "Met my fair share of addicts growing up. Can't say she acts like one of them."

"I like her," Beth added, picking at the fabric of her shirt.

Carol glanced at Lori, giving her an apologetic look, then said, "Grace seems like a decent woman, and she doesn't act like someone who abuses drugs, though I only have Merle to compare her to."

"I'm not saying she doesn't seem nice," Lori argued. "But Shane told me that she was as mean as anything and was always high or drunk. She showed no signs of stopping, so why would she stop just because the world ended? There are other ways to get high."

Fixing her with hard blue eyes, Rick said tightly, "Shane said a lot of things, most of which were lies or exaggerations."

She snapped her mouth shut, her argument dying on her lips.

The mention of Shane silenced everyone in the room, knowing how touchy a subject the man was for Rick. He'd had to kill his best friend who'd slept with his wife, making it impossible to know who's baby it was that she carried, and they'd all given Rick the cold should for a while after his death. Time aided them in realizing that he'd done what he had to do, though Lori still held a grudge, but it didn't change the fact that they looked at him differently because of that day. Now the mere mention of Shane brought silence and tension.

Needing to put to rest their fears of Grace to some degree, he said, "Whenever I confronted her to either give her a ticket or warning, she was hateful, spewing insults and foul language. If I so much as suggested she get clean, she'd start screaming and yelling that it was none of my business and would continue ranting even as I drove off, and when I finally had to arrest her she was violent and fought me and Shane tooth and nail, biting, scratching, kicking, everything. That is _not _the woman in the kitchen right now."

"Well, then what changed?" Lori asked, staring ahead at the wall.

Rick thought about telling them that her daughter was almost killed by a walker while she was getting high, but that would just add more fuel to the fire. "You'd have to ask her that. It's not my place to say."

"Can we trust her?" Carl asked from the floor, repeating his earlier question.

After a moment, Rick nodded. "I think so."

"If there's anyone in this place we should worry about its Simon," said T-Dog, keeping his voice down to prevent himself from behind heard by those in the kitchen. "Boy was actin' all macho when tellin' us about the area while you and Grace were in the kitchen. Glenn questioned him and the kid nearly bit his head off, face turned red and everything."

When Rick looked at him, Glenn said, "All I asked was if he knew of any place we could find medical supplies and food. He got in my face and said this was his turf and we were just guests."

Technically they were just guests, but only in the cabin. Anything outside was free game. Still, it was concerning that the boy was openly hostile about it.

"I'll ask Grace about it later," he assured them.

Maggie sighed, "So we're stayin' the night?" When he nodded, she got up and mumbled something about going outside to get some fresh air that didn't smell like walker, and Glenn followed after her.

"Is there a problem?" Rick asked, looking at Hershel.

"It's only been us for so long, she's not so open to the notion of being around strangers anymore, especially after the incident with Randal," Hershel explained, watching his daughter wonder outside with Glenn.

"It's not like we're moving in," Lori pointed out. "A day or so and we'll be on our way."

About that, Lori was right.

A herd was only a day or so behind them and they couldn't count on the rickety cabin for protection. The gutted walkers outside would disguise their smell, but if only one caught scent of them or heard them its palls would come running and they'd be surrounded. They couldn't risk another incident like the farm. No, in a few days they'd continue on south before one of the surrounding herds could box them in.

All he had to do was figure out what he was going to do about Grace, Ashley, and Simon.

Without guns and fuel they were as good as dead, and if a herd came tearing through they wouldn't stand a chance. But he couldn't leave them any guns, already low on ammunition, and what food they did have they couldn't spare. The logical thing to do would be to offer to let the three join the group, but he wasn't sure that was the best idea given their dwindling resources. They hardly had enough of everything for themselves, adding three more would be as good as sentencing them all to a slow death unless they found a fully stocked hospital and Daryl found a deer everywhere they went. Not to mention, Lori, Carl, and Maggie weren't sure about Grace, while the others were concerned about Simon's attitude. They were under enough stress and being stuck in a vehicle with them wouldn't help.

Still, Rick couldn't just leave the three of them behind to die. Were they anyone else he would and he'd have a clear conscious doing so, but he'd seen how terrible Grace had been before the walkers, saw how her life was going nowhere fast, and yet she'd cleaned up her act during the apocalypse and turned her life around, becoming someone helpful and pleasant.

The walker plague was tearing him apart, but it had put her back together. That alone left him to believe that she deserved at least a chance to live. He just needed to figure out how he'd help her have that chance.

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_**Coffee keeps me awake to write, but reviews keep me motivated to write!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_**I really didn't intend on this chapter being so long, but I can't say that I'm complaining. Better to have long chapters than short ones. And I'm sorry it took so long for me to upload it.**_

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About an hour ago, Daryl returned with a deer that had been wondering around the stream, and after gutting, skinning, and cooking it outside for a good while he brought it inside for them all to pick at.

They'd gathered in the living room to eat, each claiming their own little spot. Lori and Carol were on the couch, Hershel was in the cushioned chair, Beth, Carl, and Ashley sat in chairs from the kitchen, Glenn and Maggie sat on a coffee table near Hershel, while Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl sat on the floor. Grace and Simon were also on the floor with Ashley in her chair beside them, but they sat a little ways from the others, not wanting to impose on the tight knit group.

Rick might have said that sharing their meal was the least they could do given that she gave them a place to stay for the night, but not everyone was thrilled with her being around them. Well, Lori, Maggie, and Carl didn't appear thrilled, and Daryl was more or less indifferent. Maggie wasn't rude or openly hostile, and Carl just seemed a little uneasy, but Lori kept glancing at her like she was going to come over and steal her baby or something. Grace understood why she might be wary of strangers, but she would have thought that because her husband showed some trust in her that she would follow his lead. Then again, if his bag and pillow in the corner of the living room as opposed to in the bedroom with his wife's things was any indicator, their marriage wasn't in the best shape. In fact, she hadn't noticed him and Lori speak to each other, save for their brief conversation she'd seen them having when they arrived, and even then neither appeared happy or comfortable speaking to each other.

Something was obviously wrong with their relationship.

"This is actually our first real meal in a while," Carol comment idly to Grace after noticing that their host was nearly breathing in the food. "Dinner's mostly consisted of squirrels, small birds, and whatever we can scavenge."

Grace shrugged, chasing the food down with some water. "That's still more than we've had. If it's not canned, bagged, we can't eat it. Not having any ammo kinda puts limits on the menu."

Carol nodded in agreement before looking at Ashley, a look of sadness falling over her features. "You've done a good job keeping your daughter fed, though. You're lucky to have her with you."

"That I am," agreed Grace, reaching up to run her fingers through Ashley's curly honey hair while she ate.

The look of sorrow the older woman tried to hide did not go unnoticed by Grace, nor did Daryl's sudden change in demeanor as he cast his eyes to the floor. In fact, everyone suddenly looked upset to some degree, and Rick looked more than a little guilty.

Something traumatic had obviously happened, and seeing how their reaction was centered around Ashley, it probably involved a little girl. But as curious as she was, Grace didn't press for answers, not sure if she even wanted to know.

"So," Grace started, wanting to get away from the obviously sensitive topic. "Where're you guys headin'?"

Shifting, grateful for the subject change, Rick replied, "South. Somewhere we don't have to worry about the cold as much."

"You're kidding, right?" Simon questioned, staring at him like he'd said some joke that wasn't funny.

"What's wrong with going south?" Hershel asked.

Grace sighed and replied, "Lotta people had the same idea – head south to get away from freezing temperatures. Unfortunately, the walkers followed their food. Trust me, it's safer staying put and risking the cold."

"That's easy for you to say," Lori mumbled, poking at her food.

Setting her plate down in front of her, Grace stared at her and decided to drop a little bit of information. "Me and that group I mentioned were heading south when we were forced back up this way by one herd of walkers after another. We never got past Jacksonville, the walkers were so thick. From what I hear, though, it's the same problem if you head too far north or towards any major city." Turning her eyes to Rick, she insisted, "I'm telling you, heading south is suicide. You're all better off stickin' to the rural areas as much as possible or in the middle of nowhere."

She might as well have shot him then and there, he looked so defeated. Was heading south really their only plan? By how he pinched the bridge of his nose, how panicked Lori looked, how what little hope the others had faded from their faces, she guessed that there hadn't been a plan B.

In truth, she was surprised they hadn't said they were heading to the prison. A woman as pregnant as Lori needed somewhere a little more permanent if she was going to give birth and care for a baby, and they certainly had the numbers needed to stand a chance at getting into the prison. It would give them stability and more than likely plenty of food, maybe even medicine.

Apparently, her daughter was thinking on the same wavelength and she said as though the solution was obvious and they were all idiots, "Just go to prison."

That got Carl's attention and he popped his head up. "Say what?"

"Prison," she repeated in childish frustration, dragging out the word.

Rick stared at her, utterly confused, and then asked Grace, "What prison?"

All eyes were on her and she shifted uncomfortably, not liking being the center of attention. "There's a prison past the railroad tracks not far from here. Honestly, that's where I thought you guys were heading when I asked, given how secure it could be with a little house cleaning."

"How secure?" Rick asked, setting down his meal.

"It's overrun with walkers, but all the fences look intact and no new walkers have wandered in and none have wandered out, best as I can tell," she explained. Wiping her fingers on her jeans, she asked anyone in the room, "Got a map?"

Maggie nodded, the possibility of a place to take refuge brightening her otherwise foul mood. She wandered over to Glenn's bag and dug out the map, coming over to spread it out in front of Grace as Rick came up beside her. Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl gathered around her and Rick whilst the others sort of inclined their heads in their direction, watching rather than getting up.

After getting a feel for the layout of the map, she tapped on the prisons location. "Here. It's about a half-hour drive from here."

"That's right in the path of the herd comin' in from the west," Maggie observed worriedly, indicating to an area circled in red. "There's gotta be almost two hundred walkers in that herd alone. Think the prison will hold against that?"

Grace shrugged. "Don't see why it wouldn't. You have to get through two fences to get to the yard."

Rick nodded slowly, staring at the map. "How many walkers you think are in the yard?"

"It changes every time I go to take a peek," she admitted. "The entrance is closed off, but the gate linking the yard to the prison courtyard is open." Dragging her blunt nail over the location of the prison on the map, she sighed. "Back when our group was still around, there was a guy – Ben – who knew the area and told us about it. That's what drew us up this way. Our camp was about an hour or two away, but he, myself, and a few others scouted out up here to see if it'd be worth the trouble. Jacob, our group leader, would'a gone but he was dealing with a little dispute between kids at the time," she explained, glancing briefly at Simon. "But like I said, our camp got hit by a herd about a day later and now it's just us. One adult and two kids can't clear out something the big."

"Yeah, we can," Simon mumbled bitterly, throwing away a deer bone with a bit too much force. "You're just afraid."

Digging her nails into her palm, she asked him warningly, "Do you really want to do this now, Simon?"

"Now or later, what the hell's it matter, Grace?" he snapped angrily, making Ashley jump and everyone else stare at them. "Not like we can get in there now that you've told 'em about it."

"You shouldn't use that tone with her, son," scolded Hershel, eying the boy.

"Why not? She's not my mother!" he spat. "Good thing to 'cause she's gonna get her fuckin' kid killed!"

"You'd better thank God I'm not your mother, boy," Grace snapped loudly, rising to her feet to tower over him, growing all the more pissed when her girl started crying. "Because if you were my son I'd spank your sorry ass like the three-year-old brat you're acting like. Now, get your ass in the kitchen. I'll be in there in a minute."

He stared at her angrily, the only sounds coming from Ashley as she cried.

Tense, ready for an altercation, Grace hissed, "Now."

Rising to his feet, he snatched some more meat from the deer and stomped into the kitchen.

Grace sighed, sifting her fingers into her hair before pulling Ashley into a tight hug, nearly tugging the girl off her chair. If figured that Simon would choose now to give her an attitude.

Bending down, she kissed the top of her head, trying to ignore everyone in the room. Most were looking away while a few stared at her or the kitchen door, taken aback by the teen's outburst. To say she was embarrassed and angry about the little scene he'd just made was an understatement and she could feel her cheeks burning. She didn't want to leave Ashley alone while she was so upset, but she needed to set Simon straight as soon as possible.

Carl watched them for several seconds in silence, picking the meat from the bone on his plate. A beat passed before he sighed and said, "Hey, Ashley."

Sniffling, the little girl looked at him with a pink nose and puffy red eyes.

Carl took off his hat and stood, crossing the room to hold it out to her. "I saw you starin' at it earlier. You can wear it for a while if you want."

The little girl's mood brightened considerably and she took that hat. "Thank you," she said in a small voice while Carl went back to sit down next to Beth.

Lori smiled at her son, but it was when Rick gave him a small but proud smile that Carl's lips quirked up slightly. Whatever was going on between Rick and Lori, their son was caught in the middle and had more than likely already picked a side.

That was something Grace never had to deal with since her daughter's daddy hit the road the moment she said she was pregnant. Good riddance, as far as she was concerned. The man was another junky who preferred meth to anything else. The girl didn't need two junkies raising her, and she liked to think that even with her past issues she did a good job raising Ashley on her own with the occasional help of her sister being the babysitter.

The hat damn near swallowed her little head, covering her eyes, and the sight brought a smile to everyone's face, including Rick's. Leave it to something as simple as a hat not fitting to alleviate the tension in the room at least a little bit.

Grinning from ear to ear, trying not to laugh at how silly Ashley looked, Beth scooted over and patted the floor between her and Carl. "Why don't you come sit at the big kids table so your mommy can go talk to Simon?"

Ashley looked at Grace for permission, and the moment her mother nodded she picked up her plate and water bottle and scurried over to sit between the two older kids, happy to be included.

Mouthing a "thank you" to Beth and Carl, Grace excused herself and went to deal with Simon in the kitchen, finding him sitting on the counter as he ate.

"What's your problem, Simon?" Grace demanded after shutting the door behind her, leaning back against it.

He shrugged, stuffing some food into his mouth.

"Oh, no, I'm not having that," she snapped, stepping forward and snatching his plate from him so he wouldn't have an excuse not to talk. "What was that in there?"

The teen glared at the floor angrily and asked, "Why'd you tell 'em about the prison? You could'a just told 'em Ashley was talking crazy things."

"Just because we can't get into the prison doesn't mean they shouldn't have the option," Grace argued. "Rick's got a son and a wife with a baby on the way – he needs a safe place for them."

"And what's up with that guy anyways?" he questioned, perplexed. "He's the prick who arrested you! Shouldn't you wanna… I don't know, stab him or somethin'? Instead you've let him and his people set up here like it's goddamn a bed 'n breakfast!"

She stared at him, not about to explain the depths of her reasons to him when he wouldn't understand. "My reasons for letting him stay here are my own, Simon. But I will tell you this – as much as I hated getting put in jail, had I not been arrested when I was I might not be alive 'cause my house was right in the middle of a hotspot in King County. The jail wasn't."

Hopping off the counter, he walked over and asked pleadingly, "Why'd you let them stay here? Groups _always _lead to people dying."

"We're not in their group, Simon."

"No, but we're in the mix tonight," he argued worriedly. "Mom and I were on our own for months 'til we found you and the others, and three weeks later she and everyone else died. We're better on our own!"

So that was what he was worried about.

Grace supposed she couldn't really be surprised. Since the death of his mother he'd been put off by the mere idea of being near other people and openly spoke his opinion about how he thought groups were basically walker calling cards, how they put lives at risk more so than people traveling alone did, and other things. If she so much has joked and called themselves a group he got mad and went into a temper tantrum like he had in the living room a moment ago. If he had it his way, he'd kick Rick and the others out into the night immediately.

"I disagree," she replied, working to keep her tone as calm as possible. Then she added almost sadly, "But that doesn't matter. Soon, they'll be on their way and it'll be just us again."

"Good," he said with a nod, relaxing just a bit. "So long as they don't raid our town, it's all good."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Taking back his food, he explained with a shrug, "That Asian dude –"

"Glenn."

"Whatever." He took a bite and then continued, "He asked about where they could find some supplies and shit. Don't worry – I set him straight, told him it was our turf and not to mess with our stuff."

"Damn it, Simon," Grace groaned, leaning forward against the counter on her elbows, resting her head in her hands. "Whatever we find in those places is ours, but if they find something first it's theirs."

"But this is our place!"

"This cabin is, yes, but we don't own ever damn neighborhood and town in the area!" she snapped, straightening.

"But –"

"No," she interrupted sharply, holding up her index finger in warning. "We've had this argument over and over, and I'm too tired to have it again. Later on, I want you to apologize to Glenn and Ashley – you scared her and made her cry."

Upon hearing that he'd upset Ashley, Simon had the courtesy to at least look ashamed. "I'll go make sure she's okay."

Grace grabbed his arm before he could step out of the kitchen, and said, "Carl and Beth are looking out for her right now."

He stared at her and then chuckled darkly. "What, you gonna have 'em take my place?"

"No, but while you were being an ass, Carl was letting her wear his hat and Beth let her come sit with them," she hissed. "You might hate being around strangers, but she doesn't once I've assured her their okay. Despite your attitude, she's having a good time. If you care about her like I know you do, you'll finish eating in here and won't come out 'til everyone else is done – you'll let her have some friends."

Simon ground his teeth together, face going red, but he yanked his arm away and went back to the counter. Hoisting himself up, he set his plate on his lap and stabbed at his food angrily, openly ignoring Grace now that it was clear she disagreed with him.

Sighing, running her fingers through her tangled hair, she left him alone and went back to join the others.

T-Dog was the first to look up when she came back in, and he asked, "We going to have a problem with him?"

Grace shrugged. "Most y'all will have to deal with is his mouth." As she sat back down in her spot, she said to Glenn, "And I'm sorry for the attitude he gave you earlier."

"Any particular reason for the hostility?" Rick questioned, looking over at her.

Grace wondered if she should tell him, but there really was no question that she should, especially after Simon's open hostility, she just wouldn't go into serious detail on the depth of the boy's issues. "His mom was one of the people in the group and he saw her get bit. They hadn't been with us for more than three weeks, and prior to that it was just the two of them for God knows how long. He's got it in his head that groups bring nothing but death, so he's pretty against you guys being anywhere near us," she explained quietly, glancing back at the door. "Honestly, his fuse has been short since that day, which is understandable seeing as he's struggling with the loss of his mother." Looking at Rick, she added while smirking, "Still, you better watch yourself if he doesn't get his way – I do believe he could give me a run for my money in the 'ranting and raving' department."

Her comment had the desired effect and Rick and to fight not to smile but failed, shaking his head. "That there is somethin' I don't want to see."

Lori, decidedly uncomfortable with the exchange, set down her plate and rose from the couch. She glanced at Rick then looked away, and said to Carol, "I'm going to bed."

Grace watched her walk away, and upon hearing the door shut she looked to Rick, noticing that his smile was completely gone. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he sighed wearily. "No, you didn't say anything wrong."

Well, she certainly did something to get Lori's panties in a bunch, Grace noted silently.

Having already eaten her fill, she opted not to stuff herself anymore even though she knew that Rick would be taking the leftover meat with them when they left. At least she, Ashley, and Simon would all have full stomachs for a while.

Grace took a look at everyone before deciding that she needed some air, and she stood, retrieving her black jacket from a hook on the wall along with her crowbar and flashlight. "I've got some rope outside with cans around the house that I need to set up. Saves me from having to stay up all night long," she explained even as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

It was sad to say, but she'd grown used to the smell of dead walkers. Sleeping so close to the stench could do that to someone. Still, she didn't want to take a deep breath.

Just as she walked down the steps, the door opened and closed behind her and she turned to find Rick coming over to her, slipping on his tan jacket.

"Thought you could use a hand," he offered. "Or company."

She didn't need any help tying some rope with cans attached to trees, the job being so easy that even Ashley could do it without trouble, but company was a different story entirely.

"Won't find me complaining," she replied, leading him towards one of the thick trees past the vehicles. Kicking away some leaves, she revealed the rope and cans. "I've got a few more bunches of rope hidden around the cabin. I take it down whenever we go out. Don't need people thinkin' the place is safe and moving in while we're gone, but hopefully the guts do a good job of chasing the living away."

Unwinding the rope, careful not to rattle the cans too much, Rick said, "You know, too many walkers run into this and the sound will just draw in more."

"Yeah, but it's either the cans or me and Simon losing valuable sleep. At least this way one of us doesn't have to be awake at all times. We're such light sleepers anymore that the wind making the cans clank together wakes us both up anyways," she explained with a shrug, tying one end of the rope around the tree trunk. "This is normally Simon's job, but I seriously doubt he's going to come out and take care of it any time soon tonight."

Rick followed her with the rope until they reached its end, at which point he knotted it around the closest tree where a few feet away was another rope with cans. He helped her straighten out the next rope and tied it as well before continuing on with the task.

"How bad does he get?" he asked, throwing her a sideways glance. "Seriously."

Grace didn't want to speak ill of Simon, and asked, "What's it matter, Rick?"

"Considering that he put his hand on his weapon when Glenn questioned him, I think I should know just how big a threat he might pose to us."

Grace stared at him, shocked to hear that Simon actually made a move for his knife, but not so shocked at the same time. Sighing, she shook her head, and then said, "I'll tell you what – a question for a question. I'll answer yours if you answer mine, deal?"

He thought about that, and then nodded. "Fair enough. So, how bad?"

"Pretty bad… and getting worse," she confessed. "I mean, he had a bad attitude back when his mother was alive, but after she died he's gotten worse. Like I said, it's understandable, it's just… worrisome. Sometimes he only grumbles and walks off or gives me the silent treatment, other times he acts like he did during dinner to varying degrees, but a few times he'll just see red and will start throwing things, screaming, and punching walls. Typically, Ashley can get him to stop just by giving him a hug or spilling a few tears, but when he's as bratty as he was during dinner and starts swearing like that I separate them because that can sometimes lead to the wall punching and throwing."

"You think he'd hurt her?"

"Not intentionally, no. He loves her like a sister. But when he gets mad he gets pissed and when he's pissed he doesn't always think with a clear head. Ashley doesn't need to hear him accuse me of killing us or that we're going to die or whatever, and I sure as hell don't want him throwing shit around her and punching," she explained, tying off the rope and looking for the next bundle. "I called him out on upsetting her in the kitchen and he was going to come out to see if she was okay, but I told him to wait until later."

"Wouldn't it help for him to apologize to her as soon as possible?" Rick asked, finding the rope first and handing it to her. "She was pretty upset."

"Any other time, it would be best, but if he saw Carl and Beth keep her company he'd go on a tirade about them taking his place or something. That was one fight none of us needed to deal with." Sighing, she ceased walking and leaned back against a tree. "If Simon were an adult I'd have cut him loose a few days after the group died with all the trouble he's given me, but he's a kid and I care about him as if he were my own. He's worth the trouble."

"Even so, you'd best keep an eye on him," Rick warned, casting the beam of his own flashlight into the dark forest, his voice distant. "It's just a bad attitude right now, but if you're not careful, if you don't pay close attention, he could take a turn for the worst. You don't want that."

Grace stared at him closely, head cocked to the side a bit as she studied him. Everything about him – his posture, his tone, how he wasn't looking at her, what he said – told her that he wasn't just talking about Simon's behavior.

"What happened to you, Rick?" she asked gently. "I don't remember you being this… well, being like _this_. Even when I was yelling at you before you arrested me you were stern, sure, but you were also calm and nice and all, but on the road you threatened to shoot me when I didn't do anything and grabbed me in the kitchen like I was a rag-doll. What's the deal?"

Rick breathed a heavy sigh, setting the rope on the ground and putting his hands on his hips as he walked a few steps away from her, keeping his back to her. His discomfort was palpable and Grace remained silent, picking at her fingernails while she waited for him to reply. She figured it wouldn't be a happy topic, but she hadn't expected him to be so uncomfortable explaining it all, let alone take over a minute to gather his thoughts.

After what felt like an hour, he finally said, "I got shot the day after I arrested you and fell into a coma – didn't wake up until a good month after all this started. In that time, Lori and my partner Shane were having an affair. After I found her she broke it off with him, so even though it was pretty obvious they'd been together I played dumb and kept my mouth shut. We were already having problems before the walkers, I didn't want to make it worse. That being said, the baby has as much chance of being his as it does being mine."

"Shit, I'm sorry," Grace said sincerely, feeling more than a little bad for him. First the walkers and then an affair? What a thing to wake up to.

"Thing is, Shane never let it go that I was back with Lori. He changed, became cold and hardened, ruthless even," he continued tightly, staring off into nothing. "Carl was shot by a hunter by accident, and he needed medicine and equipment that Hershel didn't have on his farm, so Shane and the guy who shot him – Otis – went on a run for medical supplies. Something happened and Shane shot him so that the walkers would focus on him while he made a run for it with the stuff Carl needed."

She gaped. "He used the guy as bait?"

Rick nodded.

"God, I know your kid needed the stuff, but _seriously_?"

"I'd have done the same thing in that situation, but I'd have killed him, spared him the pain of being eaten alive. Shane only shot him in the leg. After that, he thought he could protect Carl and Lori better than I could," Rick added grimly. "He and I were constantly at odds, especially once he started believing the baby was his, and he'd just become downright dangerous – Lori even came to me and said that Shane thought she, Carl, and the baby were his and he'd kill whoever threatened them, including me. Hershel didn't want him on his farm anymore after an incident with some walkers in his barn, but I convinced him to let Shane stay even though I knew he was unstable."

"I'm guessing having him stay wasn't the best idea."

He shook his head. "After what that barn incident, Hershel went in town to get drunk at an abandoned bar, so Glenn and I went to drag him back. We ran into some trouble with other survivors and brought one of them back with when he was left behind after falling from a roof and impaling his leg on a spiked fence – a boy named Randall. We were gonna fix him up and drive him far from the farm before sending him on his way, but it turned out that he went to school with Maggie and knew where the farm was. If he found his buddies he'd lead them right to us, and we didn't need a war on our hands, but I didn't want to just kill him without thinking about it. Shane thought differently thought and tried to shoot him. I stopped him but he and I got into a fight – damn near killed each other before walkers snapped us out of it. A couple –" he felt silent, hearing a branch break somewhere in the woods.

Both holding their weapons – Grace her crowbar, and Rick his Python handgun – they shined their lights in the direction of the sound, expecting to find a walker. To their relief, it was just a raccoon looking for a meal.

"A couple days after bringing Randall back to the farm, Shane snapped and everything went to hell," Rick continued, returning his gun to his holster. Walking side by side, they worked on setting up the rest of the rope, getting the task over with. "He took the kid out into the woods and killed him, made it seem like Randall escaped and with his gun after knocking him in the face with a rock – came back and his face was all bloody. It was all a trick to get me alone and I knew it, but I kept goin', kept givin' him chances to stop, but even when he didn't I just kept walkin' farther from the farm. Reached a field and he put a gun to me, said he was a better father for Carl and the baby, and a better man for Lori. Said I was destroyin' everythin'. It was either him or me, so I made him think I was handin' over my gun and I stabbed him. I didn't have a choice."

Grace stared at him, shocked that his relationship with his best friend – his partner in the sheriff's department – could have fallen so far. Shane had been a smartass who didn't want Rick to waste his time being the good guy around her, but the two men appeared to be close, almost brotherly, and yet the guy slept with Rick's own wife and had the nerve to try to stake a claim on Lori and Carl? She could understand his desire to want the baby seeing as neither men could know for sure who the father was, but to go so far as to try to murder Rick?

Rick dragged his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh, and said, "Lori hasn't looked at me the same way since. She won't say it, but she thinks what I did was just as bad as murder 'cause like I said, I knew what he was doing and could'a brought the death march to a halt, but I didn't. And after I told Carl had to put him down when Shane turned? That pretty much ended things for us." Bitterly, he added, "Tried to fix things at first, but it was pointless. Nothin' kind was said between us, and now all she does is challenge my decisions with a little less bite and patronize me like I'm a child. She doesn't trust me, and I can't say that I give a damn anymore. The others trust me more now after coming to terms with it all, but I know they question what I'm doin' to some degree. Hell, _I _question what I'm doin'. Resting his hand on the butt of his gun, he shook his head, quiet for a while as he became lost in his thoughts. But then her looked at her for a few seconds, and said quietly, "Been a long time since I've had any hope that things can get better."

For a moment, Grace said nothing, only worked on tying one end of the rope to one tree and the other end to another. There was one more rope to go and she kicked away the leaves, picking it up, but she made no move to start tying as she contemplated over what Rick had just confessed.

No wonder he was different. What he'd gone through wasn't something anyone should have to deal with, ever, and certainly not a good, honest man like him.

"Look," she started slowly, turning to face him. "I wasn't there, but it seems to me that you did nothing but defend yourself. Shane had it coming and you gave him every chance to stop what he was doing. He signed his death certificate long before you stabbed him, Rick. And honestly, killing him the way you did at least showed you that you don't have to be bitten or scratched to turn."

"You know about that?"

She nodded. "And as for Lori? I'm sure she can be a nice lady, but she can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. I mean, I don't care if she thought you were dead – she screwed your best friend, warned you about him being dangerous, only to get pissed that you killed him after he lured you into the woods to murder you? God, no wonder y'all aren't sleeping in the same room."

Rick stared at her.

"What?"

"Nothin', just not use to people taking my side about Lori. Everyone, with the exception of Daryl, is always defendin' her actions and attitude. It's a nice change of pace, havin' someone aside from Daryl on my side for a change," he explained with a small but genuine smile.

She smiled back. "Yeah, well, I might not have been too fond of you back when I was using, but you were never the murdering type, so I doubt you are now. Nah, I'm willing to bet you're still a good guy, Rick Grimes."

His smile faded and he shook his head. "I stopped being the good guy a long time ago. I'd do anything for Carl, the baby, Lori, and this group. If that means killing the living then so be it."

"And I would do the same for my daughter. Doesn't make us bad," she argued softly. "It make me a mother, and it makes you a father, husband, friend, and leader."

"Husband," he repeated dryly. "Fairly certain we'd be getting a divorce if we could."

"Good luck finding a lawyer."

That made him chuckle slightly and he shook his head. "Have to admit, I never thought you and I'd ever be having a conversation where you weren't screamin' and yellin'."

"Oh, come on, I wasn't that bad," she argued, earning her a disbelieving stare from the cop beside her.

"I gave you a warning for public intoxication and offered to give you a lift home, and you called me a motherfucking cocksucker."

Her cheeks flamed red and she scratched the back of her neck, breathing out an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, uh, not my best moment."

"No, it wasn't, but that was how you were every time I was around you," he said, watching as she started tying the rope around the tree.

Keeping her eyes on her work, she explained, "You didn't act like other cops and that bugged the hell out of me. You kept pushing me to go to rehab and get clean when I insisted I loved who I was and didn't need to change. Any other cop would have arrested me on the multiple occasions you gave me tickets. I think what pissed me off most was that you didn't just leave me alone or whatever – you were a good guy and I wasn't used to is. So when I read in the paper while in jail that you'd been shot and were in a coma, I have to admit that I damn near did a little happy dance."

"Well, that's less than comforting," he commented, smirking.

"Hey, you were constantly riding my ass about me screwing up my life. Felt like the monkey finally got off my back for good," she explained, smiling as she finished up. "But after thinking about it all once I was clean, it occurred to me that you were probably the only person on the planet who at least tried to help me. As far as my own sister was concerned, I could rot in prison or OD, but you constantly tried to get me to go to rehab and were always cutting me some slack. Guess that's why I invited you and your guys here for the night – my way of apologizing for being a loud mouth junky bitch to you."

"Apology accepted," Rick assured her, bringing a relieved, bright smile to the woman's face. He then looked her up and down, shining his flashlight on her just enough so that he could see her better without blinding her. "You look good, Grace."

She blushed and self-consciously brushed her fingers through her blond hair, hating on they caught on tangles. "I look like shit – I'm too skinny and am in desperate need of a real shower and shampoo."

"We all could use a shower, and you're right, you are too thin," he agreed, causing her to frown a bit. "But that's not what I'm talkin' about. Not once before all this did I ever see you smile."

She blinked.

He thought she looked good because she _smiled_, even though she wasn't at a healthy weight and in need of a shower? She didn't know what to make of that, but she found herself smiling slightly and blushing harder.

Needing to change the topic, she asked, "So, uh, now that that's out of the way, where do you plan to go come morning?"

"We're gonna check out that prison you mentioned," he replied, tone turning serious. "If it looks as secure as you say it is, we're gonna go for it."

Grace nodded slowly, happy that they were at least going to try but sad that they'd be leaving. Rick was a good guy, and now that she was talking to him she found that she wanted to continue getting to know him. It sucked that their time would be cut short by him and his group leaving, though Simon would throw a party the moment they left.

"That's good, that's really good. With any luck it should be plenty stocked." Laughing slightly to hide her disappointment that he'd be leaving, she added, "If you manage to get inside, I'd appreciate it if you'd toss some food over the fence if you find any."

Grace," he started, grabbing her arm gently and turning her to face him. "I said _we _were gonna go for it. All of us."

"But I thought… Rick, your people hardly know me, Simon's already caused problems with your group, and Lori clearly isn't comfortable around me. I might not like her after what all you told me, but I don't want to stress out of pregnant woman," she reasoned while her heart screamed at her to thank him rather than argue. "And I'm not leaving Simon behind."

"We'll deal with Simon, and Lori will get over it," he insisted, sounding almost desperate. "With as much space as a prison can offer you, Simon, and Ashley could get to know everyone without being in their face all the time."

"Rick –"

"I need you to come with us, Grace," Rick interrupted quickly.

Hesitating, she asked, "Why? What's it matter if I go or don't?"

He didn't answer right away, seemingly searching for the right words that would explain everything. "I thought you were lyin' when you said you were clean, and even after seein' your arms it crossed my mind that you could just be using somethin' else. But none of the signs were there. We've both changed because of life or death circumstances, but you've changed for the better." When she opened her mouth to speak, he put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her, and continued firmly, "We need you in the group to remind us… to remind me that things can always get better. Lori's already told them what Shane said about you –"

"Great," she mumbled.

"But seeing you clean now might boost their moral, make 'em believe that there's still a chance at a life," he explained almost desperately. "After draggin' yourself outta that hole you were in, you at least deserve a chance, and you'll survive longer with us in the prison than you will out here."

Speechless, Grace could only stare at him as his words rolled around in her head, coming into conflict with other thoughts while imploring her to just agree to tag along. Simon sure as hell wouldn't want to go and would no doubt go into a rage or give her the silent treatment, and Rick's group didn't know her well enough to trust her. To survive, a group needed to trust each other, or at least know each other. Her entry into the group might cause too big of a disruption, and Simon would definitely cause a disruption here and there, but Ashley… Ashley needed to be around people, other kids, and like it or not Grace couldn't protect her by herself for forever, not when Simon was so temperamental as of late. The little girl needed stability, and living in the prison could quite possibly offer her that.

Rick gave her shoulders a light squeeze, and she dragged her dark green eyes up to his.

Hadn't she wanted more time to get to know him? Hadn't she been disappointed to know that he'd be leaving? It was obvious he didn't mind talking to her – he wouldn't have told her as much as he had if he did mind – so why was she trying to talk herself out of going? Rick was a good man, something familiar from before the world went to hell, and she needed that – it was hard to come across a genuinely good man in these dark times. He had his fair share of issues, but who didn't these days? Either way, he still had a good heart.

"Okay."

Rick, a little surprised, repeated, "Okay?"

"Yeah. Your people might not be used to having me around and Lori might not like it when you tell her, and Simon definitely won't like it, but I have to think about what's best for Ashley. Constantly on the run from walkers with just me and Simon for company is no way for a little girl to grow up. And unlike Simon, I'm inclined to believe there's safety in numbers," she replied. She then smirked, noting his look of surprise, and added, "I could always start screaming and calling you names that would have everyone in that cabin blushin' if you'd prefer that to me agreeing to come along."

"I'd rather you didn't start doin' that," he said with a slight chuckle. Removing one hand from her shoulder, he trailed his other hand down her left arm where his thumb pressed gently into the crook of her elbow where the healing scars lay hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt and jacket.

The action made her throat tighten and she bit her lip lightly, scolding herself when her cheeks heated up. Such a simple touch to anyone else, but it meant something to her. She was repulsed by the evidence of her years of drug use, but the way he was gently moving his thumb over the scars made her feel a little less repulsed, like maybe she could one day walk around in a short-sleeved shirt again.

Reaching for his hand on her elbow, she gave it a squeeze, and said softly, "Thanks, Rick… for letting me have this chance."

"Don't mention it." As if only just realizing he was standing fairly close to her with his hand on her elbow, covered by her own hand, he let go and took a step back, clearing his throat. "Is that the last of it?" he asked, indicating to the rope.

"Oh, um, yeah," she replied, blushing harder than before.

She knew Rick to some degree only because he used to write her tickets, give her warnings, and arrested her – not the makings of a wonderful friendship! Granted she'd learned a lot more about him since he and his pals came to the cabin, and with the change in her stemmed from being clean she could see them becoming friends, but still. The last thing she needed was to get some warm happy feelings from a married man she hardly knew.

Thankful for the darkness hiding her red cheeks, she said anxiously, "We should, uh, you know, get back inside before they send out a search party."

Rick merely nodded and led the way back to the front of the cabin in silence, to which Grace was thankful. She had a lot to think about, a lot to discuss with Simon, and all the while she needed to rest up for tomorrow.

If Rick liked what he saw, tomorrow they would take the prison, and she needed all the sleep she could get so that she was ready to pitch in. She'd prove to Rick's people that she could be trusted as a valued member of the group.

As for Simon, well, only time would tell if he could push aside his grievances.

* * *

_**Coffee keeps me awake to write, but reviews keep me motivated to write!**_

_**And Simon isn't just some teen with random anger issues – there's a bigger reason for his unstable, nasty temper that will come into play in a later chapter.**_


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